Isabel Glass was amused that I mentioned her presence in my WFC report. But I did not divulge her secret.
Netflix has changed its colors.
There must be some technical, or French, term for mis-understanding a spoken word or phrase, and I hereby acknowledge this fault in last night's post. Upon checking the lyric sheet to the latest R.E.M. album, I see that the phrase I thought I quoted in my title (from "Electron Blue") is actually "you know where to run". Hmm. I like my phrase better. (Update Saturday morning: the word is "mondegreen", as both Ted Chiang and Rick Kleffel advised me.
Back to business: an essay by Bob Eggleton is in works, about the 50th anniversary of Godzilla, for posting on Locus Online.
I was sorting and reorganizing all the files on my PC today, to do a new backup of everything, and came across the directory of files of fiction and poetry fragments and drafts that I wrote years and years ago and never finished, or never sent out. People routinely ask me if *I've* written fiction or intend to. Well, yes, no, not really, I did once but got sidetracked. I sometimes worry, the morning after, if my posts here are overly self-indulgent. Perhaps the solution is to go beyond the self-indulgent into the blatantly self-indulgent, so that from now on you won't regard the moderately indulgent as anything unusual. So perhaps I will quote you... my poetry....
the gallant iconoclasts
sprang from within
their radiant positions,
reprised their slow wisdom,
and descended momentarily,